


Dualities

by Jack_Lecter



Category: Wizards of Waverly Place
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: omgjustinalex, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_Lecter/pseuds/Jack_Lecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's sitting in her Advanced Lit class when she finally gets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dualities

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Wrote this awhile ago, but forgot to post it here. Feedback is greatly appreciated, including constructive criticism, and I'd love any advice about writing dialogue, especially for Alex.
> 
> This is supposed to be Jalex, sort of, but I wanted to avoid bludgeoning the reader with it. As concerns the Jalex ship generally, well, I could launch into some extensive metatextual defense of it, but for now I'll leave it that maybe I'm just a *little* bit sadistic...

She's sitting in her Advanced Lit class when she finally gets it.

She hadn't even wanted to take the stupid class, not at first.

Going to college in the first place hadn't seemed like a terribly appealing prospect, but Justin had left for NYU a few months ago, and the thought of being away from him for another three years had roused a strange, empty axiety somewhere behind her thoughts. Whenever she thought of attending Art School straightaway she felt cavernous echoes from it rippling across her mind.

It was _not_ a nice feeling.

And, of course, there was the fact that Art School would mean work- a _lot_ of work- and without Justin or Harper to help, (or copy off of), she'd have to do practically all of it herself. Gag. Me.

So instead she'd signed up for NYU, planning to take a couple of art electives and two or three large, easy classes in which she could use her textbook as a pillow.

Then she'd made the mistake of articulating her strategy to Justin. One two-hour lecture later, he'd reconceptualized her whole schedule, prioritizing classes which were more 'intellectually stimulating'. And her parents, as usual, had taken his side.

She hadn't minded, not really.

Even though it meant she ended up in this _insanely_ hard lit class, where she actually had to, like, pay attention and stuff.

The professor, he's got this thing about dualities. Good and evil, black and white, mind and matter; ways to order the world by splitting it into two distinct categories.

Last week, they'd read an excerpt from _Paradise Lost_. It had been wordy and boring, and Professor Franklin had droned thoroughly on historical conceptions of good and evil.

This week, he goes off on some tangent about freakin' _Neitzsche_ , of all people, because, _hello_ , this is supposed to be _lit_.

But wait, it's not like it _matters_ to her anyway, so what the hell.

On and on about dualities all semester, and in the back of her head, she'd recognized something in them, identified some pattern that was familiar and constant and always, _always_ _there_.

Lucifer, the tempter, barrelling straight towards forbidden knowlege, completely heedless of all consequences. Not caring who he pissed off, even if it were freakin' _God_ , or actually _trying_ to piss God off (just to get his attention, maybe).

If she were Lucifer, would that make Justin God? Or, like, at least Michael.

And it's today that her professor goes off on his tangent about Apollo and Dionysis, about Order and Chaos, about dualities far more fundamental than those presented by Milton.

Yin and yang, that swirl of dark and light, swirling _against_ and _into_ one another- cooperative enmity- the two rows of teeth, upper and lower.

She messes things up, screws up the natural order, laughs as things fall apart, then watches Justin fix them for her.

Justin always fixes her mistakes.

(mistakes? is that what they were?)

It's not like she's ever thought about this before, not really, but here, sitting in class and, obviously, not about to _think_ about class, it's what she finds herself doing.

And _this_ isn't a nice feeling, either, palms sweating and stomach rolling and a slight, slight pressure behind her eyes all tell her that thinking about this (out loud) is a mistake.

She does it anyway. She wouldn't be Alex if she didn't make mistakes.

Justin always fixes her mistakes, and she always makes mistakes for Justin to fix; these are the unwritten scriptures of their relationship. And so what if, now and again, she catches herself looking forward to the second part of that a little too much, and a little too early? Thinking, _All right, Justin, let's see you get me out of_ this _one_. It doesn't mean anything.

It _certainly_ doesn't mean she's screwing things up on purpose just so she can watch Justin fix them.

(because, he always fixes them. for her.)

This isn't, like, some pathetic plea for attention.

And it's certainly not the expression of anything _else_.

And when she comes to him for help, she's certainly never scanning his face, searching his eyes for some sign, some hint of that mammoth, unspoken _else_.

And she's _certainly_ never _found it_.

Without thinking she shudders, shifts her grip on the textbook. She's _so_ dropping this class tomorrow.


End file.
